Backstage at the Majestic
by Brittany Diamond
Summary: Phic about the passionate love traingle between the leads of PhotO on Broadway. If you love Phantom and sexual tension, you'll love this. Fights, love, drama, plot twists, and much more. Rare lang. Won 2 OGFFAs: 1st for Best Romance Fic, 3rd Best Overall
1. Chapter 1

**Side Note: **In order to have a story, you've gotta set one up, right? That's what this chapter mainly does and, if I've done my job right, you won't get too bored. In case you ever wonder, Gerard Butler and Emmy Rossum are you I envision as Vincent and Christine for obvious reasons. Do what you may with that info, I just thought it might help.

**Chapter One:**

As far as Christine Parker was concerned, she was born to play the lead in Phantom of the Opera, and not just because she and the character shared the same name. Ever since she saw the production on Broadway when she was seven, she'd been in every singing and acting class in Manhattan. Thirteen years later, she had auditioned three times at three different theaters and ended up in the chorus, each director choosing a fully operatic middle aged woman over her, but now she had another chance at the Majestic theater on 42nd street. From the moment she heard a theater was having an open call for the next season of Phantom, she'd been rehearsing the selected material around the clock.

Now she was all alone in the warm up room, going over the music for the millionth time. Wishing You Were Somehow Here Again was on of the most difficult songs in the production, and she had found out about auditions late in the game. Before she started her third run through, a man opened the door and curtly instructed her to follow him. She let out a deep sigh, smoothed her long brown hair, and tried not to stumble as she trailed behind the man. The solo difficulty wasn't the only thing making her stomach turn. Vincent McKile, Broadway veteran and youngest person to direct on 42nd street at thirty four, was not only deciding who gets what role, but had chosen himself to star as the Phantom. He'd played the lead five years in a row and, somehow, gotten the opportunity to both direct and star in the musical. He was talented, he was gorgeous, she had never met him, and the thought of someone as great as him critiquing her voice, which was less operatic and more like Emmy Rossum's singing, filled her with dread.

Having been lost in her thoughts, she hadn't realized she was entering the backstage of the theater. Forcing her breath to remain normal, she wiped the sweat on her hands onto her jeans and straightened her posture. A woman exited the stage as Christine entered, and after passing the stranger she found herself standing center stage in front of a man in dress pants and a black sweater, who was studying her silently. She kept her trembling to a minimum as she waited for him to speak.

His Scottish accent threw her off guard. "Ms. Parker?"

She nodded. "Yes."

"Mr. North will accompany you on the piano, as you know. He's ready when you are." He stated, briefly motioning into the orchestra pit.

She nodded to the piano player, heard the short introduction, felt herself suddenly relax, then began to sing. After the first chorus, when he didn't signal for her to stop, she let herself get lost in the music and soon forgot anyone existed. When it came to the final lines, she nailed it with all her strength.

"_No more memories, no more silent tears, no more gazing across the wasted years_. _Help me say goodbye_. _Help me say...goodbye_."

She slowly came back to earth and looked down to find that Vincent had moved from his seat to lean on the orchestra pit's rail. His stare was so intense she almost asked him what was so interesting.

"Are you available for the same time next week for call backs?" he asked, his voice so soft she almost didn't hear him. "The song is Angel of Music Reprise.

She fought back a squeal of joy. "I'll be here, sure."

The week went by way too fast for Christine. Between constant rehearsal and working as a secretary for a hot shot, asshole lawyer, she was back at the Majestic before she could blink. She sat in the second row and watched a handful of middle aged women audition for the same role. They were all brilliant, which made her muscles tighten with nerves. Who was she to go against these seasoned performers? Two people had already asked her if she had been called back for Meg, which didn't help her sense of swiftly approaching doom. Every now and then, however, she'd forget everything and watch Vincent perform with the auditioning actresses. The man had an overwhelming stage presence that demanded your constant attention, and a deep, rich voice that you felt privileged to hear. He'd face whoever was trying out and sing with them as if it took no effort on his part. Captivated by him, it took her a second to realize he was addressing her from the stage.

"Ms. Parker? Do you want the lead or not?"

She leaped from her seat and quickly went up to the stage, feeling everyone's eyes judge her as she took her place a few feet away from Vincent. The director signaled the piano player, and as the music swelled, he locked eyes with Christine and his demeanor shifted. Vincent was gone, the Phantom stood in his place.

"_Insolent boy, this slave of fashion, basking in your glory_. _Ignorant fool, this brave young suitor, sharing in my triumph_!_"_

Everyone was dead to her as she inhaled to sing. "_Angel, I hear you, speak, I listen_. _Stay by my side, guide me_. _Angel, my soul was weak, forgive me_. _Enter at last, master_."

"_Flattering child, you shall no me, see why in shadow I hide_. _Look at your face in the mirror, I am there inside_!"

Without realizing it, she moved toward him. "_Angel of music, guide and guardian, grant to me your glory_! _Angel of music, hide no longer, come to me strange angel_!"

He took her in his arms. "_I am your angel of music, come to the angel of music_"

Suddenly they were back in reality and they stepped away from each other. Her cheek was still warm from where he'd held her, but she tried to keep her mind off that fact. Averting her eyes away from everyone, she left the stage as blood flushed her face. She tried to act casual as the auditions continued.

Two hours later, Vincent was sitting center stage, staring down everyone who had received a call back. A clipboard rested in his lap, holding the fates of them all. He started reading names, going in order from the chorus to the leads. As they neared her role, Christine began to wring her hands with increasing anxiety.

"Madame Giry is Mrs. Danielle Watkins, Carlotta is Ms. Susan Moore, Raoul is Devon Travis, and, in a rather charming coincidence of names, Christine Daae is Ms. Christine Parker."

Pure elation seized her heart as tears welled in her eyes. She looked down and smiled to herself as Vincent continued.

"As for everyone else, you are very talented people and I hope to see you again. The cast needs to wait around for a meeting before going home. Thank you."

As everyone started talking and moving at once, Christine hardly noticed the numerous people congratulating her as they passed, but she did head what one woman's voice had to say.

"You're talented dear, but that's not why you got the part. You'll be another notch on his bedpost if you're not careful."

By the time Christine registered what had been said and turned around, all she saw were the backs of the men and women who hadn't made it as they were leaving. A minute later, all was quiet except for the director speaking to his cast.

"I wanted to get on Broadway ever since my parents dragged me to my first show. It was Cats, and I don't think I spoke for two weeks afterward, I just sang. I didn't know the words, I barely knew the melody, but I sang it anyway. Thanks to years of obsessive practice I debuted on Broadway as Marius in Les Mis. After a show, this man appeared out of nowhere and asked if I'd seen The Phantom of the Opera. I said no and he said to meet him at a theater in two days. I did, and I was treated to front row seats to Phantom. At the end of it, with tears in my eyes, he turned to me and said, 'I'm Andrew Lloyd Weber, and I'd be honored if you played the Phantom next season.'" A collective gasp washed over the crowd. "I know, I know, I should have known what he looked like from seeing Cats to being in Les Mis, but it had never occurred to me that I'd never seen him before. Obviously I didn't hesitate, I mean, who would? Getting to the point, I adore this musical, I cherish this musical, I'll be doing this until I can't sing anymore, and I'm thrilled beyond all reason that I can not only be in it, but direct it as well.

"However, before I hand out scripts and schedules I want to make one thing very clear: this production will have some changes. Personally, when I saw the movie, I noticed that the changes Mr. Weber made enhanced the play to new heights and, in fact, he said himself that most of the changes he made were things he wished could have been done on stage. Therefore I have no shame in saying that certain things will honor the movie version more than the original. If anyone disagrees, I have the understudy cast right here and I'm willing to make any changes I have to should someone feel strongly about this." After a full minute of silence, he continued. "Very well. The leads will be going through just the songs today, right now, and the rest of you are due back here in four hours to do the same. Come get your script and schedule when I call out your name."

He started with the leads first, and introduced Christine to her other co-star, Devon. They stood to the side as the rest of the cast went up to Vincent one by one. Devon was a strikingly handsome man with heroic features, it was no wonder why he was cast as Raoul.

Devon was the first to speak. "You had an amazing audition."

A large, flattered smile spread across her face. "Thank you. I got here just as you were finishing and only heard the last few lines, but you have incredible talent."

He nodded in thanks, then glanced at the director before replying in a soft voice, "You're a very gifted woman, and I'm only saying this for your benefit. Vincent McKile has had an affair with every leading lady he's come across in all his years on Broadway."

Despite herself, she was filled with a strange sense of disappointment, but tried to cover it. "He's almost fifteen years older than me, the possibility never crossed my mind."

He raised a knowing eyebrow. "Everyone here saw everyone else's call back audition. The only one who ended up in his arms was you."

She felt her face flush and looked away. "I was playing a part."

"If you play a part with anyone, it shouldn't be with a middle aged playboy," his voice became husky as he touched her arm, "it should be with me."

Upon hearing his words she moved away from him and pretended that nothing had happened. Vincent might be a playboy, but everything about him screamed 'amazing.' She couldn't place it, but there was something wrong with Devon that she'd sensed from when they were introduced. Up until a few seconds ago she had been developing feelings for her director, but the possibility of being involved with her co-star had never even flickered across her mind. Her body suddenly went still as she felt Devon lean in close to her ear from behind.

"Be careful, Christine," he warned with a hushed, ruthless tone, "I'm a very powerful man."

Before he could continue, Vincent strolled towards them with four people in tow. "Christine, Devon, this is Susan Moore, Caroline Nolan, Bradley Tom, and Jake Dellman, they'll be playing Carlotta, Meg, Firmin and Andre." They all shook hands and warmly greeted each other, then the director continued. "We'll be going through both acts with the pianist, and vocal coach, Mr. North. For some of you it'll be the same song second verse but there are a couple of you who haven't played the role you were cast in yet. Today is basically just to see which parts we need to focus on."

The cast followed him onto the stage and they began rehearsal. When it came to the Angel of Music Reprise, Christine kept her eyes down on Mr. North and never looked at Vincent once. She was not about to get involved with a thirty-four year old womanizer no matter how talented he was. She decided that she would be polite and follow his instructions, nothing more.

After two hours of nonstop practicing, they finally wrapped up act one and Vincent sent everyone but Devon and Christine our for a two hour break.

The three of them sat in the front row and chatted while Mr. North took a half hour break to relax his hands and call his wife. Each actor shared a shortened version of their life story and, by the time they finished, it was past time to start act two. They dove head first into it and worked to improve every mistake they came across. Wishing You Were Somehow Here Again went smoothly, with applause from, not only Vincent and Devon, but Mr. North as well. The Angel of Music finale went with a few corrections and suggestions from Mr. North so Vincent and Christine's voices would blend together easier. Trouble didn't threaten to show up until it came time for Point of No Return.

Just before they began to song, Vincent's cell phone rang.

Before he answered it, he said "Work on Christine's part, then I'll come back in time for the finish. I'm fine with the first verse."

As he disappeared backstage and answered his phone, Mr. North began the music and Christine concentrated on hitting every note. As she neared the final chorus, she noticed Vincent walk out and stand next to her, listening for the moment he joined in. The last chorus arrived, and at that moment something foreign took over her body. Their voices came together with such an incredible passion that it threatened to overwhelm her. All she could think about was embracing Vincent and letting herself be ravished by him. If the song had lasted any longer, she would have thrown herself at him and, given his past, that was the last place she wanted to be. The melody came to an end and he walked over to a chair to sit down, breaking the spell. She felt embarrassingly warm and restless. She took a few deep breaths as if she was preparing to sing again, trying to hide the fact that Vincent had gotten to her. She didn't know which was luring her into danger more, the man or the music. To keep herself feeling safe she told herself it was all in the lyrics as they set to work on the finale. Mr. North broke down the scene into sections and they went from there. They weren't even half way done when people from the chorus started walking in. When everyone had arrived, Vincent said they'd pick up on it tomorrow before they blocked act one.

The rest of rehearsal went with very few hitches, and they were done for the night around eleven thirty. Devon was the first one to approach Christine once Vincent had dismissed the cast.

"Do you need a lift?" he asked as they walked through the lobby alone.

She made sure to keep her distance. "I can take a cab. I don't want to trouble you."

"No trouble at all." he insisted.

She was so polite she knew it had to sound cold. "I won't inconvenience you."

He took hold of her arm and they stopped at the main doors. "I've warned you once, Christine, don't make me take more drastic measures."

She struggled to meet his intimidating gaze. "Like what?"

A sinister grin tugged at the corner of his mouth. "You've dreamed of this opportunity for a long time, I can tell in the way you perform. You know how to sing almost every note perfectly, that doesn't come without hours of intense study and practice. Your obvious dedication is what attracts me to you. I'd hate to crush that dream of yours."

"Who do you think you _are_?" she asked, anger rising in her voice as she pulled away. "You can't threaten me to get what you want."

He took a step toward her. "I'm the mayor's son, I can do as I please."

Her eyes narrowed viciously. "Is _that_ how you got the part?"

He slapped her across the face so suddenly she barely knew what had happened. The left side of her face burned as he pressed her back against the door.

"I don't use leverage to land parts, what do you take me for? My talent gets me the leads, _not_ my father. Now," he straightened himself up, "my driver is waiting. Give him your address and you'll be home in minutes."

"Can't stop rehearsing?"

Christine looked around Devon and saw the director walking towards them, pulling on his black coat in the process. Devon backed away from her and laughed.

"We were just discussing the quickest route to her place," the actor lied his words flowing with an eerily convincing ease.

"So I could give the cab driver he best directions," she added, opening the door and holding it open for them.

Devon glared at her as he passed her, while Vincent nodded to her without speaking. They bid an awkward farewell and Devon climbed into his new Buick and drove off. The two remaining performers stood on the curb and tried to hail a cab. She did her best to concentrate on getting home, but he broke the silence and shattered her efforts.

"You weren't talking about directions, were you?" he asked, his tone indicating that he already knew the answer.

She shook her head and kept her eyes on the street. A cab finally pulled over, and Vincent opened the door for her. He stopped her for a moment before she got in.

"If he gives you any trouble, you be sure to let me know."

She managed a weak smile and got in the cab. As the car drove off and left Vincent in the chilly night, Christine tried to imagine what the coming months could involve, but she couldn't bring herself to do it. She didn't dare.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two:**

Christine stared at the stage, amazed. Vincent had made the crew build the sets two weeks in advance so the cast could immediately start getting used to working with the structures. Few things were painted and truly "finished" but it was still an incredible sight for such short time. After admiring the work for another minute she realized what was coming next: Music of the Night. When Vincent sang it yesterday she had been sitting behind him, listening, but this time he'd be singing _to her_. As intoxicating as he was, she had to remain level headed at all times, for her dignity's sake.

She stood in the middle of the stage, with the organ to her left, the throne to her right, and the curtain next to it. Vincent was solving some sort of confusion with a couple of actors near the orchestra pit, and when he was finished he joined Christine as if everything was perfectly normal and nothing was going on.

Then she thought of something truly humiliating: what if, to him, everything _was_ normal? What if she was creating the tension in her head? As she pondered this exasperating possibility, she tried to pay attention to Vincent's instructions.

"You've seen this a million times," he said, his tone friendly but all business, "I do most of the movement, but I'll lead you to a couple of places before I show you the mannequin. I'll catch you when you faint and, this time, I'll lay you on the floor, but once the gondola is finished I'll put down in that. Simple enough?"

She smiled and nodded, unable to think of anything to say. The director yelled for everyone to be quiet, then signaled the orchestra and their conductor, both of whom have been doing the musical for three years, to be ready to play once he started singing. He left her side and went to the orchestra, then began the song. As he serenaded her, she constantly struggled to play along, keep eye contact, but stay professional. Then he advanced toward her, slowly, his voice hitting every note with a deep tenderness that reverberated in her mind. He stood behind her, his strong hands caressing and exploring her hips and curves. She had to stop her eyes from rolling back and concentrated on acting rather than the warm, firm hands that now grazed over her neck and shoulders. He left her then, and stood off to the side where both she and the audience could see him. She remained riveted, unable to look away from his magnetic, intense eyes. It came time for her favorite part of the song, and the most difficult part to remain cool headed in. He stepped towards her as he sang, and didn't reach her until he hit that glorious note.

"_Let your mind start a journey to a strange new world. Leave all thoughts of the life you knew before. Let your soul take you where you long to be!_" In the moment of silence, he took her face in his hands. "_Only then can you belong...to me._"

He continued to sing, and led her over towards the concealed wedding gown. When the time came, he pulled back the curtain and an actress popped out, not moving so she'd seem like a mannequin. Christine fainted into Vincent's arms, and he swept her up with ease and grace. As he set her down back where she had started, she couldn't help but adore the feeling of his manly arms around her, protecting her from anything. She cursed herself for enjoying his embrace, and as she did so she realized the music had stopped. Her eyes popped open and she shot up, doing her best to act normal. Vincent stood above her, offering his hand out to help her up. She took it casually, getting to her feet and brushing herself off.

"Jason," Vincent called to a balding man with a notebook sitting in the front row, "there's gonna be a slow, short blackout so they know time has passed, then we go straight into I Remember and so on." He turned to Christine. "As we rehearse we'll find the most natural movement, so don't worry about feeling awkward for a while. Now, for I Remember, it'll play out like the film. Do I need to elaborate?"

"No, I know exactly what you mean." she said politely.

He grinned. "It' so much easier working with people who are as obsessed with this as I am."

She smiled, unsure of what to say. He took her silence as a sign of shyness and pressed on with the rehearsal.

After Stranger Than You Dreamt It, the director had her exit stage left to wait for Notes then Prima Donna to be blocked. She sat around and chatted with members from the chorus, who had nothing but wonderful things to say about her performance thus far. When the conversation turned to Vincent, however, everyone said pretty much the same thing: make sure to keep your distance, 'cause he's a wild one. This solidified her decision that she was to be nothing but professional. He'd given no indication that he was interested anyway, and it was just as well.

Eventually she heard the end of Prima Donna, and stood to take the stage. Devon appeared in front of her suddenly, as if coming out nowhere. Except for rehearsing, they hadn't said a word to each other until now.

She tried to walk around him. "We need to be on stage."

"Vincent's talking with Jason," he insisted, "follow me and I'll give you a tour of the dressing rooms."

Before she could object, he whisked her away to a deeper part of the back stage area where no one could see. She struggled to get away from him, sensing the imminent danger.

He pressed her against the wall with his body, their noses practically touching. "I'll make the offer again, before it turns into a demand. Be with me. Love me and everything will be alright."

She fought for breath, his weight pressing against her lungs. "What...do you want from me?"

Her eyes widened as she felt his hand slide along her inner thigh. His other hand clutched her left breast and kept her firmly against the wall. She squirmed in his grasp, unable to make any sound. He gripped her throat and put his mouth close to her ear.

"You have so much talent," he whispered, "you're beautiful, you're young. When you make your first million, _I'll_ be the husband you share it with. My father will see my success and finally be proud of me. I want _you_, Christine...and this."

He squeezed the crotch of her pants and she let out a strangled scream. Devon let her go so she'd stay quiet, and she slapped him without hesitation.

"You're a fucking lunatic," she swore, "you're nothing but daddy's little bitch."

He shoved her against the wall. "If you weren't needed on stage, I'd teach you to have respect for your husband. I'll save that lesson for next time. Get the hell out of my face."

She gladly did as she was told, and tried to straighten herself out as she made her way to the set. Christine walked on stage, where everyone was waiting for her.

"Where'd you run off to?" Vincent lightly demanded from his seat in the front row.

"I'm sorry, it won't happen again," she apologized, trying to avoid his real question.

The director studied her for a moment, as if deciding something, then carried on with the rehearsal. Il Muto and the murder of Buquet took a while to set up and actually get through, but once they finally did it, the tech crew set up for the rooftop scene.

Christine and Devon were under the stage, standing at the foot of the stairs that would lead them on stage. She stayed as far away from him as she could while they waited for their cue. He went to say something, but the music started and they had to make their entrance. Once on stage they went right into Why Have You Brought Me Here. Vincent was watching from upstage and to the left. He was supposed to be hiding behind one of two statues that would be on stage, only it hadn't been constructed yet.

As All I Ask of You began, she realized that pretending to love Devon would be more difficult than she thought. Whenever he got near her all she could think about was what he had done to her backstage. They embraced and came to the climax of the song, then he was kissing her, and she went stiff. It took every ounce of her self restraint to keep from decking him in front of everyone. The next thing she knew Vincent was telling everyone to stop. She pulled away from Devon and tried her best to not look repulsed. The director stepped between the co-stars and faced Christine.

"You're not kissing your brother," he stated, his heavy Scottish accent sounding so simple he almost made her laugh, "this is the man you've fallen in love with who _hasn't_ killed anyone. What happened?"

"Nothing, nothing, I'm fine," she assured him, sounding more natural than she felt.

"Alright then," he turned towards the pit, "we're taking it again!"

After struggling through the last number, Vincent finally called it a day and told everyone to go home. Christine his in the bathroom and peeked out frequently until she was certain everyone had gone home. Feeling like a little girl, she emerged from her hiding spot and went into the lobby, her coat already on. If she hadn't been wrapped up in disgusting thoughts of Devon, she wouldn't have run straight into Vincent. They collided for a split second, apologized at the same time, laughed it off, then let an awkward silence settle over them.

"You're leaving rather late," he said in an attempt to bring the mood back to normal.

"I-I...uh..." she stammered, trying to think of something to say that wasn't obviously a lie, "...had to go to the bathroom."

He arched an eyebrow for a second. "Can I...get you a cab?"

"Oh, no, I'm fine." She started for the door. "I can take care of myself."

"Christine?"

She froze, swallowed the lump in her throat, and turned to face him. "Yes?"

He walked up to her. "You sounded a little rough during the last lines of Wishing the other day at rehearsal. I just wanted you to know tonight so you wouldn't be caught off guard tomorrow when we block act two."

She felt relieved that he was all business, even though she didn't understand why he felt he needed to "warn" her, but she wasn't about to press the matter. "Alright."

They walked out of the theater and she went to the street, her arm in the air, trying to hail a cab. As the yellow car pulled up to her, she felt Vincent's presence close behind her.

"Christine..." he said, his voice gentle.

Alarm shot through her veins. She mumbled a goodnight and got into the cab before he could continue. As she sank into the leather seat and gave the driver her address, a chilling thought floated through her mind.

_For the next few months I'm stuck between a talented playboy and a psycho abuser._


	3. Chapter 3

**Side Note:** By the way, I don't have anything to do with Phantom of the Opera and I never did. Don't sue, I'm just a fan who likes to write.

**Chapter Three:**

The blocking of Masquerade took two hours longer than everyone had anticipated. By the time Vincent was satisfied, it was past lunch. He called for a one hour break and everyone scattered. Christine managed to avoid Devon once again, get her salad from under her jacket in the fifth row, and sit in the half painted elephant that's used for Hannibal, which was backstage. Even though she was alone and it was a full length jean skirt, she made a point of crossing her legs for her own piece of mind.

She had almost finished eating when her luck kicked into gear for what seemed like the millionth time. Vincent passed her by with his head down, deep in thought, and did a double take when he caught her out of the corner of his eye.

"What are you doing by yourself?" he inquired in a polite manner.

She shrugged as if his mere presence didn't rattle her. "I didn't feel like leaving."

He paused for a moment, looking as if he was trying to decide something. "Would...you like company?"

Before she could stop herself she replied, "Sure, of course," and he sat beside her.

She had vowed to stay away from the director, and here she was now having a pleasant, quiet conversation with him. She really needed to work on taking her own advice.

"So why are you obsessed with Phantom?" he asked casually, though there a slight hint of something else in his voice.

For a split second she thought he had why she was so fixated on _him_. When a second passed and she realized he was talking about the musical, she nearly slapped herself for thinking something so ridiculous.

She poked absent mindedly at her salad, then looked up as her mind went over every detail of both the play and the film. "The music...the story...the sets...everything. I remember seeing it on Broadway again, once I was older, and thinking that Christine was such a moron for going with Raoul. Yes, Erik made serious, unforgivable mistakes, but he didn't know any better. He didn't understand why she couldn't love him until she kissed him. If it had been me, I would have understood, I would have made it work. A man like that is worth living under an opera house. I used to dream that a real Erik would sweep into my life and give me the passion I always dreamed of."

As soon as she finished speaking, she remembered who she was talking to. She looked away as her cheeks reddened, then stole a glance at Vincent, who was staring at her with a mesmerized look in his eyes. She set down her salad and got out of the elephant, her hands shaking with embarrassment. He mimicked her movements and now stood in front of her, blocking her only way out into the theater.

"There's nothing to be ashamed of," he said, touching her arm briefly, "more people should talk like you."

She looked down. "You don't understand."

He took a step closer, his voice lowering. "Yes I do. I know why you're embarrassed to admit the things you did."

"And why is that?"

He tilted her chin up and looked into her eyes. Her body went involuntarily still and all she could do was wait to see what happened to next. He touched the side of her face with his right hand, his touch careful and delicate. Her eyes slid closed as her heartbeat slowed and everything in her being went calm. She nearly stopped breathing as she felt his mouth tenderly kiss her neck and jaw line. Suddenly, her eyes shot open and she pushed him away. She was _not_ going to be used.

The director put his hands up and took a step back. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to...I thought that..."

Christine straightened her shoulders and looked him in the eye. If she was going to live up to her own advice, she needed to be assertive for once in her life.

"I know your history with women," she stated, "and I won't be taken advantage of."

He raised an eyebrow and lowered his hands. "I was afraid you'd hear about that. My past...tendencies...with women can't be apologized for or excused. That's why I've been keeping my distance until now. I didn't want your reputation to sink as low as mine." A look of sorrow passed onto his face. "I...I would not have treated you like the others, I swear it. You're worth more than that to me."

All the fight drained out of her. She'd never felt more foolish in her entire existence. Relying on gossip as if it was fact, she never even thought of getting his side of the story. He was so much more beautiful to her now, and she wanted, more than anything, for him to know that. But every time she thought of something to say she couldn't bring herself to push the words out of her throat. She wanted to apologize, she wanted to tell him how stupid she felt, she wanted him to know that she had been falling for him even when she thought he was an active womanizer.

They heard people enter the theater, talking amongst themselves. Her gave her one last, long look, then went out to join the cast. Now alone, she clenched her fists and swore, so furious with herself that she could barely see straight. She grabbed her salad container and went looking for a trash can as she scowled to herself. Finding a trash in the lobby, she chucked the rest of her food into the receptacle and went to go back into the theater. Among other actors returning for rehearsal, Devon emerged, heading straight for her. The fire from the her anger at herself fueled her courage so that even when he was walking right next to her, she was unaffected by his presence.

"What do you want?" she demanded, trying to keep her voice low so nearby cast members wouldn't be able to eavesdrop.

"I want to see you after rehearsal," he said, holding the theater doors open for her as they entered.

"No," she answered flatly.

He clenched his jaw with frustration. "That wasn't a request."

"I don't know what you think you're doing, but you won't get anywhere.

"I'll pull you out of the show, I swear."

This made her think how she was handling the situation, and how it could land her jobless in New York. "Fine, I'll see you after the fucking rehearsal."

Things started to flow more smoothly once they started in on Wishing. As she sang, Christine moved about the stage when she felt it fit the music, and let herself get lost in the lyrics. However, in the back of her mind she couldn't help but try to figure out a way to tell Vincent she was ready to be with him. She finished the song facing the audience, and waited for the Phantom to appear on top of the wall above the Daae grave. He slipped into full view and began the Angel of Music Finale. Right then she knew how to tell him. Her only real opportunity would be through her performance. She turned and faced him as he sang, every emotion readily expressed on her face. He noticed the look in her eyes and his brow furrowed, wanting to believe she was trying to speak to him but not wanting to get his hopes too high.

The moment came for the final chorus, and she sang with more conviction than ever before. "_Wildly my mind beats against you, but the soul obeys! Angel of music, I denied you, turning from true, beauty. Angel of music, my protector, come to me strange angel!_"

His voice was raw and passionate. "_I am you Angel of Music...come to the angel of music..."_

Then Devon entered on que and broke the trance. The scene carried on like normal, except when Raoul tried to take Christine away, she fought against him long enough to get one last look at the Phantom.

During the blocking of We Have All Been Blind and Twisted Every Way, Vincent kept giving Christine odd looks as if he wasn't sure of her feelings. She wanted to pull him aside and tell him everything, but, being the director, he was constantly in demand.

Then the crew began to set up for Point of No Return.

As they rehearsed the song after it was blocked, he didn't seem to understand what she was trying to communicate, and it was driving her insane. Every now and then he'd give her a look that seemed to ask 'are you serious or do I just _want_ you to be serious.' When the final chorus was halfway through and she was singing to him with all her might, she thought he had finally understood when he pulled her closer, but as soon as they were through singing, people were asking him all sorts of questions about a million different things and he left her side to help each of them individually without so much as a second glance to Christine. She covered her frustration by stretching out her arms as she walked backstage, trying to keep herself from screaming. Throughout the rest of rehearsal she sang and behaved as she normally did. If he didn't get it by now, he was hopeless.

After another hour and a half of struggling with the Finale, everyone was dismissed for the night. Vincent approached her at center stage just as she was about to leave, and spoke in a hushed voice.

"I just wanted to make sure you were still comfortable with performing," he said, glancing around to make sure no one got close enough to hear.

She met his gaze, her eyes reflecting both adoration and aggravation. "I've been trying to tell you all night...I won't be comfortable until you love me."

She left him there, jaw dropped and eyes wide, as she put on her jacket and followed the last of the exiting cast into the lobby. Now he knew what she wanted; it was his decision now. She didn't think of her commitment to Devon until he stopped her in the lobby.

"My car is outside," he stated with authority, "we're going now."

As she went to try and turn him down, Susan Moore came up to them. "Vincent said he wanted to review a scene with you."

Christine smiled and look at Devon. "We'll get together tomorrow night then," she said, her voice sugary sweet, "I promise."

He glared at her for a moment, then left in a huff. She thanked Susan and took off her coat as she went back into the theater.

As the door clicked shut behind her, she knew something was different. The entire place was dead quiet, without a soul in sight. The stage was bare, and as she cautiously made her way down the aisle she kept an eye out for any movement. As she stepped up onto the stage, she saw a few members of the orchestra down in the pit pretending she didn't exist. Christine stood center stage and looked out over the vacant seats She was about to turn when she heard Vincent's voice sing to her with a tone she hadn't heard before.

"_You have come here...in pursuit of your deepest urge. In pursuit of that wish which, 'till now, has been silent...silent._"

Warmth slid down her back as she turned her head to look at him. He walked toward her from backstage, his eyes dark with smoldering desire. She realized the orchestra was playing, but didn't care. Her breath went shallow as he continued.

"_I have brought you, that our passions may fuse and merge. In your mind you've already succumbed to me, dropped all defenses, completely succumbed to me. Now you are here with me, no second thoughts, you've decided...decided._" A devilish grin flickered across his face as he came closer to her. "_Past the point of no return...no backward glances. The games we've played 'till now are at an end. Past all thought of if and when, no use resisting. Abandon thought and let the dream descend._" He grabbed her shoulders from behind and sang possessively into her ear. "_What raging fire shall flood the soul? What rich desires unlocks its door? What sweet seduction lies before us? Past the point of no return, the final threshold._" He ran his hands down over her every curve. "_What warm, unspoken secrets will we learn?_" Backing away from her, he held his arms low and out from his sides, daring her to come to him. "_Beyond the point of no...return..._"

Nearly breathless, she faced him bravely as she sang back to him with equal sensuality. "_You have brought me to that moment when words run dry, to that moment where speech disappears into silence...silence. I have come here hardly knowing the reason why. In my mind I've already imagined our bodies entwining, defenseless and silent._" A sly grin tugged at her mouth."_Now I'm here with you, no second thoughts, I've decided...decided..._" She began to walk towards the back of the stage, and he followed suit, his gaze blazing she kept singing. "_Past the point of no return...no going back now. Our passion play has now, at last, begun. Past all thought of right or wrong, the final question: how long shall we two wait before we're one_? _When will the blood began to race, the sleeping bud burst into bloom_? _When will the flames at last consume us_?" They started for each other, their hearts racing and their needs rising as their voices came together flawlessly. "_Past the point of no return, the final threshold!_" They grabbed each other and pressed their foreheads together, the tension almost unbearable."_The bridge is crossed so stand and watch it burn. We've passed the point of no...return..._"

Their mouths met with deep fervor as everything that had been building up came crashing down in an overwhelming wave of lust. She pressed up against him as he held her tightly, his hands flat on her back and roaming freely. Gripping him with a fierce need, the energy built to a dangerous level. After a moment he gently pushed her shoulders and their mouths parted, their faces still centimeters apart. He held her tenderly, his eyes reflecting such passion and adoration that she thought he might burst.

His emotion came out in his perfect, gentle voice. "_Say you'll share with me one love, one lifetime. Lead me, save me from my solitude. Say you want me with you, here beside you._" He took her hands in his. "_Anywhere you go, let me go to. Christine, that's all I ask of-_"

Her tearful kiss kept him from finishing the line.

The hugged and caressed each other, taking their time to savor each other's company. When time finally occurred to them, they made a quick exit and shared a cab. At her apartment door, he gave her a long, lingering farewell kiss, then he was gone, and she was alone. Floating on cloud nine, she unlocked her door and stepped into her dark apartment, thinking of nothing but the joyous future that lay ahead of her.

If she had known that Devon was waiting for her in the shadows, she wouldn't have been so optimistic.


	4. Chapter 4

**Side Note: **For some reason I keep thinking the writing could be improved, but I can't really figure out how. I'm happy with where the story is going, but I can't shake the feeling that the writing is lacking. I might be crazy, but if I'm not, please let me know and I'll revise this chapter immediately. I want to give nothing but the best to my readers.

**Chapter Four:**

Christine floated into her apartment and leaned on the door to close it. Her mind kept replaying what had gone on at the theater that night, and every time she did her cheeks flushed. She wasn't one to behave like that, and the fact that Vincent brought out the hidden side of her personality both thrilled and frightened her.

As shereached to turn on the hall light, she went still.

Devon stepped out of the kitchen and into the hall, not two feet in front of her, and leaned against the wall. Before she could control her reaction, she backed against the door and searched for the knob. He was on her before she could find it. His body pressed her up against the door, squeezing her lungs to the point where breathing was an immensely difficulttask.

"I noticed our cherished director gave you a ride home tonight," Devon stated quietly, his expression hard to read with only the moonlight streaming in from a nearby window to illuminate his features, "How...chivalrous."

She squirmed underneath his weight, trying to position herself so she could take at least a half of adecent breath. "Why...are you here?" she asked softly, beginning to feel slightly lightheaded.

She heard the door lock as he spoke. "I told you about his past."

"You lied about his past," she retorted, remembering how he had deceived her, "you'd do anything to keep me away from him."

His tone turned cold, "Is that so? In order for me to try and keep you away from him, you'd have to be trying to stay near him...are you?"

She tried to keep her growing fear out of her voice, "That's none of your business."

He punched the door near her head, causing her to shrink away instinctively, "_You're mine_," he said, his voice husky and cruel, "_You're my fiance_..._I will not be betrayed by my own fiancé..._" His hands grabbed her waist, squeezing her flesh until she thought she might scream, "Tell me the truth...has he laid a hand on you?"

She couldn't keep her voice from trembling now. "...N-No."

He swung her around by the waist, slammed her into the wall withcrushing force, and shoved her to the ground. "_Lying bitch_!" he swore, climbing on top of her and anchoring her to the floor.

Holding her wrists above her head with his left hand, he started undoing his pants with his right. Dazed, with blurred vision, Christine remained calm instead of fighting back, allowing herself some time to regain her senses. Devon pulled at her jean skirt so hard that it ripped, and jolted her hips off the floor for a moment. When she heard the rip and felt her skirt fly off, adrenaline surged through her and she yanked her hands out from his grasp before he could tighten his hold. She threw an untrained punch to his face, connecting with his cheekbone, and he sat up in surprise, letting out a short shout of pain. Wriggling out from underneath him, she only crawled a few feet before she felt his strong hands close around her ankles and pull her back to him. He rolled her onto her back, reeled back, and socked her in the stomach with all his strength. The wind rushed out of her lungs, and she was left coughing, sputtering, and helpless. He held her wrists above her head once more, only with a much tighter grip so it was impossible for her to get free. As Devon loomed over her, she tried to inhale properly, and slowly regained her ability to breathe. Once she did, however, he punched her in the exact same spot once more, with twice the force of the last blow. Now on the brink of passing out, all she could do was lay there and pray that she would somehow be able to breathe again.

With his prey now in submission, he could do with her what he pleased...and he did.

Vincent paced back and forth in front of the orchestra pit the next morning, glancing at his watch every ten seconds. Where in the hell was Christine? She was an hour late, and wouldn't answer her phone. He wasbeginning toget past his anger and start worrying about her. He'd been with her right up until she had gone into her apartment, so she knew she had been safe until then. What could happen to a woman in a New York apartment? A million things went throughVincent's mind that hedidn't want to think about.

Right as he was about to call her again, Christine walked into the theater, wearing a t-shirt, sweat pants, and sunglasses, her hair up in a simple ponytail and her arms crossed. She mumbled an apology and took her place backstage so the company could rehearse Hannibal. Vincent threw his hands up in the air and took a seat in the second row, telling the conductor he could start whenever he wanted.

Things went as smoothly as an early rehearsalcould until it came time for Christine to sing Think of Me. Her voice went sharp at least three times before the first chorus, and when she wasn't off key she was behind in the tempo.

Fed up, Vincent told the conductor to stop, stood up, and said, "Christine, please see me in the lobby for a moment."

He left the theater and waited for her to follow, torn between angry and concerned emotions. Just because he had allowed himself to express his feelings for her didn't mean she could ignore her responsibilities to the musical, and she should know that.

She joined him, at last, avoiding his eyes and staring at the floor. A moment of silence passed as he observed her, and as he did his fury began to melt away. She was shaking slightly, and her breath was shallow. Something was definitely wrong.

"What's gotten into you?" He asked, no malice in his tone.

"Nothing," she said so quietly he almost didn't hear her.

He took a step toward her, and was surprised when she backed away, as if frightened by his presence. "Is this about..."

She shook her head, knowing what his question was even though he hadn't finished his sentence. He stepped toward her once more, but grabbed her before she could retreat. He forced his arms around her and held her, his chin resting on her head. He felt her chest heave and fall irregularly, and his brow furrowed with worry.

"Christine," he whispered, "please...talk to me."

She pulled away slightly, and looked up at him. He carefully reach up and cautiously took off her sunglasses, revealing her tear filled eyes. He let the sunglasses drop to the floor as he held her face in his hands.

"I-I...can't..." she whispered, resting her hands on his chest.

He leaned his forehead onto hers. "You can tell me anything. Something's happened...just tell me what it is."

Swallowing hard, she knew he wouldn't let her go without an explanation. "I-I was...attacked..."

She felt his muscles tighten as his eyes narrowed. "_What_?"

"L-last night. He t-took advantage..."

"Who did this?" he demanded.

"You can't do anything."

"_Who did this, Christine_?"

"You can't touch him!" she yelled, backing away and out of his reach, "He can shut down the whole production and make sure you never work again!"

"Who even has that kind of-"

As the realization dawned on Vincent, his face fell into shock. Tears spilled down the sides of her face as she looked away, ashamed of something she'd had not control over.

"I'll fire him," he stated flatly, his jaw set, "I'll fire him after I beat theshite out of him."

He went to enter the theater, but she stopped him. "You know he'll win if you even let on that I've told you. He'll shut everything down." She stared him straight in the eye. "He wants to _marry _me."

After a second of surprised silence, he took her by the arm, "Why?"

"He told methat, in order for him to get where he wants to be, he has to have a famous wife...and he thinks I'll be famous. I don't why he's fixated on me, but he has...and there's nothing either of us can do." He looked away as she continued. "Please, you can't do anything. The show will be cancelled, you'll be put out of the business, and we won't have any time to figure out how I can get away from him. What he did last night was because he found out that you had taken me home and that something...happened. He'd warned me to stay away from you and I didn't listen. I didn't know what he was capable of. There's no telling what he would do if he found out I'd told you everything. If we do the show, we have months to sort everything out. Even if we don't, and I end up marrying him," she turned his face and made him look her in the eye, "we can have these months together. Don't do anything, not now."

She watched as the anger in his eyes mixed with something else, something more...intense. He grabbed her and kissed her with an adoring, burning, saddenedpassion. She wrapped her arms around his neck and held him close, relishing the pure feeling of safety that came over her when she was in his arms. He hugged her waist to his, and she let out a yelp. He let her go instantly, and she stumbled backward, her face contorted with pain. Lifting up her shirt, she examined the welts Devon had left on her hips from grabbing her andripping her skirt off. Vincent was by her side in a moment, bending over to get a closer look at her wounds. Despite her torment, the feeling of him gingerly touching the area around her bruises made her blush. She pulled away shyly and tugged her shirt down, her eyes to the floor.

"We'll talk at lunch," he promised, "and I wont lay a hand on him...I'll try, at least."

He snapped back to reality and realized they were in the middle of rehearsal; people were waiting on them.He quicklyushered her back into the theater and they picked up where they had left off, ignoring the questioning stares from the rest of the cast.

Throughout rehearsal Christine kept her mind on the music, though she could tell Vincent was having trouble doing the same. Except for the title song and Music of the Night, he seemed distracted, and he had every right to be. Whenever Devon and Christine were even ten feet away from each other, the director seethed with fury, his eyes dark and threatening.

When it finally came time for All I Ask of You, Christine seriously thought that Vincent was about to explode with furyand blow everything out into the open. He was twitching in his seat as the twostars sang on stage, looking away every now and then but unable to keep his eyes averted for long.

A pit formed in her stomach as the end of the duet neared. Devon, completely in the role of Raoul and appearing nothing but innocent, kissed her just as the play called for her to be kissed, nothing more. Despite her revulsion, she let him swing her around, then set her down, smiling as they finished the song, then embraced once more. As she left the stage, Vincent walked on, brushing past Devon for a moment, giving him nothing but a heated glance, then took his place on stage.

Act one wrapped, and the director dismissed his cast a little early that evening, keeping an eye on Christine's whereabouts the whole time. As he answered questions from a few actors he saw, out of the corner of his eye, Devon approach Christine as she was heading toward the lobby. He knew he couldn't intervene, which made the scene that much more excruciating to watch. She clearly didn't want to be anywhere near her co-star, but kept a plastic smile on her face as he spoke to her. The two actors stopped before exiting the theater, exchanged a few more awkwardly casual words, then they left, a triumphant smirk spread across his face.

When Vincent had helped all of the cast members that needed it, he grabbed his coat and hurried to the lobby, expecting Christine to be waiting for him.

But she wasn't.

She was nowhere to be found.

He called her cell phone and she didn't pick up. Panicked, he took a cab to her building and buzzed her apartment. He saw that her lights were on, but she never let him in. Vincent punched the door to her building, leaving a dent in the wood. Devon had told her to stay away from him before, and she hadn't listened. This time, the bastard had made a more serious threat with more detailed rules, ones she couldn't ignore.

The war had begun.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five:**

Christine sat in her dressing room and stared at herself, all but ready to take the stage. No eye contact. No kind words. Just professional attitude and nothing more. That's all the past months had been: proper. As she studied her reflection she wondered how she had been able to stay away from Vincent for so long, only talking to him when it concerned the musical, and nothing more. He didn't even know why she had started completely ignoring him, but she knew he must have his theories.

The last few weeks had been particularly difficult. He'd gotten more desperate to find out what was going on, and it had shown in rehearsals. Whenever the play called for him to touch her in even the slightest way, he would draw it out and nearly miss his next cue, especially when it came to kissing her at the end. It broke her heart to give him the ring and leave with Raoul at the end, but she had no choice. Devon had cracked down the day after he'd attacked her, giving her strict rules as to how she was to interact with Vincent. If she so much as uttered an extra word that didn't need to be said to the director, Devon swore it would all end there. She couldn't sacrifice all of the wonderful people in the cast just to tell Vincent why she couldn't even speak to him anymore.

Now it was opening night and, after the long months of being under Devon's control, Christine seriously doubted that she could perform at her highest level. She needed a moment, just a moment, with Vincent, if for no other reason than to tell him she still loved him. The heartbreak in his eyes as they had rehearsed was tearing her apart, and she couldn't stand to see him so devastated. Not only had she abandoned him, but she had started flirting with Devon as well, in order to keep him from suspecting her of betrayal. She had also started showing interest in him so that, after tonight, people wouldn't be so surprised.

A rock settled in her stomach.

The backstage manager gave two short knocks at her door; her signal to get her ass in her place before the show started in five minutes. She checked to make sure her make up was perfect and her hair was still as freshly curled as it had been when the hairdresser had finished half an hour ago. She stood up, and left her dressing room, bombarded with hushed whispers and costumed cast members flying past her. Finding her way to her beginning spot from memory, she didn't dare move from it and somehow miss her opening cue. The sound of a full house chattering away filled her with nervous delight, and the realization that she was about to give her debut performance finally hit her. This was what she had dreamed of for so long, and it was _happening_. For the first time in a long time, excitement shot through her body and, despite her knowledge of what was to come, was overjoyed that the show was about to begin.

The lights dimmed, and the cast members due on stage took their places. Caroline, who played Meg, took her place beside Christine and squeezed the ingenue's hand.

"You'll be fabulous," the woman whispered, "they're all gonna love you."

Christine smiled at her co-star with honest affection, "You have no idea how much I needed to hear that," she whispered back, and they grinned at each other.

The lights came up on stage, and the musical had officially begun. She watched as the auctioneer sold the poster, completely lost in mentally rehearsing her lines.

Then she felt someone come up behind her, someone too large to be Caroline. A gloved hand rested on her right shoulder, and her breath went shallow. She turned her head, and there beside her was Vincent, dressed in complete Phantom attire. Looking out on stage, she saw that Devon had his back to them, and knew that he would until the scene was over.

"Christine..." he murmured into her ear, his left hand sliding around her hip, "there's not much time. Tell me why you've been avoiding me, and I'll disappear. Nothing more. Please...I have to know..."

She looked up and into his half covered face, yearning to hold him but not allowing herself to do so. "I can't talk now," she whispered, choking her tears back and trying to sound professional, "the show has started."

He leaned in to kiss her, but the organ blared and the lights went out. He vanished and, before she could even realize he was gone, Caroline was there instead, giggling with excitement. Then they were on stage, dancing to Hannibal, and everything became a blur.

She didn't have a chance to catch her breath until the end of act one arrived, and even then she was constantly occupied with getting into her dress for Masquerade and drinking warm tea to relax her vocal chords. People were always around her, giving her something or taking something away. She was thrust into act two and, before she was ready, the show was over. The crowd was on their feet, and it was time for curtain calls. The supporting cast took turns going on stage and bowing, while Devon kept an eye on Christine from stage right as he waited for his cue. Across the stage, Vincent was fitting his mask back on and making sure everyone went out on stage when they were supposed to. It came time for Devon to make his appearance, and he did so as a perfect gentleman. Vincent saw him leave, and looked at Christine, trying to read her expression. It was her turn to take applause, and she entered from stage left. The crowd whistled and hollered; some even stamped their feet. Overwhelmed, she took two gracious bows, waved to the back seats, and stepped aside.

The loudest applause was always saved for the Phantom, and tonight was no exception. When Vincent took his place center stage, the crowd cheered so loudly that it almost hurt Christine's ears. The cast joined hands and took two more bows, overjoyed at the audience's reaction to the show.

Then Devon stepped forward, and Christine remembered what was about to happen. Her co-star quieted down the crowd, and the cast looked at each other, trying to find out what was going on. Vincent shot a look at Christine, but she pretended not to notice. She plastered a fake smile on her face as the inevitable started to occur.

"Ladies and gentleman," Devon began, "words cannot express how much we appreciate you being here tonight. We have all worked very hard to make this show possible and are ecstatic that we could entertain you this evening. Since this is opening night for us, I figured we could kick off this season with a bang. Therefore I, Devon Travis, am very pleased to announce my engagement to the wonderful Christine Parker!"

The crowd gasped in surprise, then clapped and cheered as Christine took her place beside Devon. He bent down on one knee, took her hand, and slid a huge diamond ring onto her wedding finger. She fought to keep a smile on her face as he stood and kissed her briefly. The couple turned, waved to the crowd, and the curtain fell. The cast members rushed at them, shaking Devon's hand and asking Christine all sorts of questions. In all the madness she managed to catch a glimpse of Vincent, who was standing off to the side, away from the insanity. It took everything in her to simply shrug and turn away, as if it was nothing. Out of the corner of her eye, she watched in pain as Vincent turned away, disappearing into the shadows.

As much as she wanted to follow him, she stayed where she was, giving calculated answers to whatever questions she was asked, and smiled as Devon took her hand, kindly told everyone to go home, and escorted his fiancé to her dressing room. He let her undress alone, but stood outside her door to make sure no one barged in uninvited.

It was here, at last, where Christine crumpled to floor and cried, her chest shrinking and squeezing her heart. There was no way she could stay distant the whole season, she didn't have the ability. But she had to, she didn't have the choice anymore. Everything belonged to Devon, and there wasn't a damned thing anyone could do about it. He even made sure she didn't act too passionate toward Vincent while they were _performing_, so there was no way she was going to get an opportunity to explain things to him anywhere else. Devon found out about everything somehow, which had caused Christine to develop a constant state of paranoia. There was no safe place for her to behave as she truly felt, and there never would be, especially now that the entire city of New York knew about her engagement to the prestigious Devon Travis.

Not even the Phantom could save her now.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six:**

The final show was thrust upon the cast way too soon. Everyone had enjoyed putting on the musical so much, they didn't even keep track of how many performances were left in order to keep up the illusion that it would last forever. The last night arrived, however, and everyone was secretly dreading the end.

Especially Christine.

Everything was already planned. Directly after the show she and Devon would hail a cab and go to Trump Palace, where they would stay overnight and be wed the next afternoon with all of New York watching. From then on she would Mrs. Christine Travis, the perfect trophy wife. She would never see Vincent again. Not that she had seen much of him at all in the past months, except for when they were on stage together. Even while performing she remained distant, making it clear that she was just performing and nothing more. She'd even started addressing him as Mr. McKile, a gesture that she knew devastated him.

She sat in front of the mirror in her dressing for, what would be, the final time, trying to put off getting ready until the last moment. She'd arrived earlier than Devon on purpose so she could have some moments alone before he came in to speak with her. With her mind roaming from one subject to another, she decided to convince herself that, even though Devon was a waste of human flesh, that Vincent wasn't anything more than a pretty voice. She'd had, what, two decent conversations with the man? That wasn't exactly the affair of the century. He was too old for her, they had nothing in common. The incident after rehearsal seemed like a dream now, to the point where she wasn't really sure if it had actually happened or not. Even if it did, so what? He was probably just like Devon: interested because of her talent. Just a selfish pervert who wants nothing more than a trophy, like her fiancé.

There was one thing about him she couldn't knock down, though, and tried not to dwell on that aspect. He was hopelessly devoted to everything he did. She remembered the conviction he possessed whenever he gave his speech before rehearsals began, the passion that came through when he was both performing and directing. He adored The Phantom of the Opera as much as she did, and for the same reasons she did. The musical was his life, there was nothing that captured his soul more.

But, for a few minutes, that unabashed devotion had been concentrated on _her_. She had been the center of his world, a woman he wanted to love and protect no matter what stood in his way. The sensation of his arms around her returned to her then, sending warm shivers up her spine.

Devon entered then, without knocking, and looked her over, "Why aren't you changing yet? You're already running behind. Here I came in to tell you how proud of you I've been and you let me down. Honestly, Christine, how many times do you have to disappoint me?"

She leapt up from her seat. "I'm sorry, I just-"

"Would you like to leave now?" he taunted, "We could leave the cast hanging and go get eloped now, if that's what you want."

She shook her head vehemently, "No, of course not."

"Prove it to me, would you?" he said curtly, "Get dressed."

The hair dresser arrived as Devon left, and from then on she was never alone. Someone was always buzzing around her, either fixing her hair, make up, or costume. Since she had started late, her appearance wasn't perfect and everything wasn't set until it was two minutes before the show started. She rushed to her opening place backstage and waited, wringing her hands and cnstantly on the look out for Vincent, should he decide to approach her again even though he hadn't since opening night.

When the first scene ended and Vincent was nowhere in sight, she relaxed and listened for her cue to enter. Once she was on stage, she forgot about everything else and focused on giving the performance of her life and enjoyed every second of it.

It came time for the Phantom to make his appearance, and she was completely at ease in her role as she tried to leave Christine Daae's dressing room, but when she heard Vincent sing his first lines, she knew that tonight's performance was going to be radical.

"_Insolent boy, this slave of fashion, basking you glory_. _Ignorant fool, this brave young suitor, sharing in my triumph_!"

As she sang back to him, she could hear the pure rage in his voice, a tone she had never heard from him. He was not acting. Through the title song she found herself truly mesmerized by him as he led her down to his lair. When she sang, she sang for him, not the audience. Her voice belonged to him, and she had been a fool to think anything else. By the time she was in his lair began, she was completely under his power, and she cherish every word the escaped his lips. He whipped off his cape and took his place by the organ, his eyes locked with hers.

He motioned to his home as he sang. "_I have brought you to seat of sweet music's throne, to this kingdom where all must homage to music...music. You have come here for one purpose and one alone! From the moment I first heard you sing I have needed you with me to serve me to sing for my music...my music..." _He slowly made his way toward her, lulling her deeper into the trance. "_Nighttime sharpens, heightens each sensation. Darkness stirs awake imagination. Silently the senses abandon their defenses..._" He helped her out of the gondola and, despite herself, she placed her hands on his chest and snuggled up close to him, his arms slipping around her waist, "_Slowly gently, night unfurls his splendor,_" he bent down and sang into her ear, "_Grasp it, sense it, tremulous and tender,_" He stepped away and led her forward. "_Turn your face away from the garish light of day. Turn your thoughts away from cold, unfeeling light...and listen to the music of the night_." His voice turned from soft to commanding. "_Close your eyes and surrender to your darkest dreams. Purge your thoughts of the life you knew before. Close your eyes, let your spirit start to soar..._" She opened her eyes, utterly breathless and slowly reach for his hand as he offered it to her. "_And you'll live as you've never lived...before..._" He softly cradled her face. "_Softly, deftly, music shall surround you. Feel it, hear it, secretly possess you._" He stepped away from her. "_Open up your mind, let your fantasies unwind in this darkness which you know you cannot fight. The darkness of the music of the night._" He started walking behind her as his voice pulsed through her body. "_Let your mind start a journey through a strange new world. Leave all thoughts of the life you knew before._" He stopped on the other side of her. "_Let your soul take you where you long to be_!" He approached her, stepping behind her and making sure his breath spilled over her shoulder. "_Only then can you belong...to me._" His hands slowly slipped onto her skin just below her breasts and worked their way down. "_Floating, falling, sweet intoxication,_" She reached up and ran her fingers through his hair, "_Touch me, trust me, savor each sensation_." He took her hand and led her toward a curtain. "_Let the dream begin, let your darker side give in, to the power of the music that I write. The power of the music of the night._" He whipped back the curtain and revealed the mannequin. She gladly fainted into his capable arms and he carried her back to the gondola, where he laid her down among the pillows. The last words he sang to her were filled with such true emotion that she nearly burst into tears as he gently touched her face. "_You alone can make my song take flight. Help me make the music of the...night._"

The music ended, the crowd applauded and, on reflex, she shot up and left the stage to get out of the way for Notes and Prima Donna. As she sat down in the only available chair backstage left and the next scene began, she tried to catch her breath. Vincent had been holding back until now. He was using everything in his power to convince her to stay in the only manner he could, and it was starting to work. She actually considered fighting Devon after the show for a moment, but the beginnings of her plot were destroyed as her fiancé appeared out of nowhere, looming over her with hatred in his eyes.

"I'm not blind," he whispered angrily, grabbing her wrist "I can tell he's trying to get you to go against me. You know how stupid that would be. I can end, not only his career, but every single cast member's as well. I own you and you know it. I hope, for the cast's sake, that you don't forget that."

Then he was gone, flying on stage to take part in Notes. She cursed herself for letting her barriers down during the performance, and knew she couldn't let it happen again. Throughout the rest of act one she was just as professional as she had been all season, and sometimes even more so. At the end of All I Ask of You she kissed Devon with particular zest and actually laughed as he swung her around. As she was going to leave to stage by way of the stairs that led down below, she glanced up at Vincent, who was crouched in the mantelpiece, and shrugged him off. Once she was under the stage, she hurried up the steps that would take her up the regular level, but backstage, and stood off to the side to listen to the rest of act one as Devon disappeared from her side and went to take care of his own matters. What she heard surprised her. Vincent's voice had gone from alluring to heart wrenching, and as he sang, she knew that she had finally torn his heart in two.

From his place above the audience he sang, "_I gave you my music, made your song take wing, and now, how you've repaid me: denied me and betrayed me. He was bound to love you when he heard you sing...Christine._" As he openly sobbed on stage, she let silent tears roll down her face. Hatred for herself and her actions started rising in her stomach, churning and squeezing until her whole body felt rotten. His closing lines were delivered with such raw torment that she fled to her dressing room, his voice following her. "_You will curse the day you did not do all that the Phantom asked of you_!"

Christine burst into her dressing room and slammed the door, covering her hands and letting all the torture and pain that had built up inside of her explode out of her. When people knocked at her door to help her get ready for act two, she snapped at them, saying she could very easily do it herself. It took half of intermission to get herself together, choking back the tears and applying fresh make up. With shaky hands she pulled on her costume for Masquerade, wondering how she'll be able to act giddy and happy when she just wanted it all to end.

She tried shook off the feeling of disgust for herself and checked herself one last time in the mirror. A short knock at her door made her jump. Before she could ask who it was, Vincent entered, his expression stone, and closed the door behind him as he advanced toward her.

"I refuse to believe you," he stated flatly, his eyes dark as he took her by the arm, "You can't try to tell me that you're in love with him, not after what he's done to you!"

Overwhelmed by his sudden presence, she tried her best to play it off, "You shouldn't be in here, Mr-"

"Enough with being polite, dammit," he said, fury swimming in his eyes as he grabbed her arm, "there's no way you love him so tell me what's going on!" His anger faded into sorrow as he let her go. "You've been killing me all this time...I just want to know _why_."

He was so heartbroken, so destroyed, in that moment, that she nearly gave in and told him everything. She remained cold, however, for she knew that if he found out that she still loved him, he would do everything in his power to keep her with him.

Calling on her acting ability, she stared him down, "He had reasons for his actions, Mr. McKile. He has the ability to give me more than you could ever hope to. If I'm going to succeed in this business, I need him as my husband."

He stared back at her, astonished. It seemed, at last, he finally believed that she loved Devon, even if it was only for his power.

Turning toward the door, he spoke over his shoulder in a voice that reflected so much hurt, so much anxiety, that he barely got the words out. "I love you, Christine...up until now I would've died knowing you loved me."

Then he was gone. Christine looked around her dressing room, reality crashing down on her. After tonight, Devon can do whatever he wants to her, but during the last act of the show...she belonged to Vincent. She would show him her love through her character, and there was nothing Devon could do until it was all over. He would hit her, beat her, might even come close to killing her, but if Vincent didn't understand by the end of the night that she was his, and his alone, she was dead already. She tilted her chin up and left her dressing room, hotdetermination coursing through her.

Nothing would stand between Christine and her Phantom, not this time.


	7. Chapter 7

**Side Note: **I wasn't gonna write this chapter tonight 'cause I just worked six hours, but due to the great reviews, I'm inspired to keep writing. Thank you SO MUCH for your support. It keeps me going.

**Chapter Seven:**

Dancing with Devon on stage during Masquerade, she kept her usual, default stage smile on for the audience, while she yearned for Vincent to make his entrance. This being one of the scenes the director had made more like the movie, she knew her first opportunity was coming up fast.

Suddenly, the organ blared the main theme and lights dimmed. Christine and Devon stood off to stage right as the chorus on the stairs split apart to reveal the Phantom in all his red death glory. He descended the stairs along with the beats, taunting and mocking the crowd as he was supposed to. Whipping out his sword, he waved it around casually, wearing all his power as if it was nothing. When his gaze settled on Christine he was halfway down the stairs, sheathing his sword.

"_And as for our star, Ms. Christine Daae_." He kept eye contact with her as he paced back and forth. She didn't listen to the words, she found she couldn't. She was fixated on him, yet again, and when he had finished singing, she started toward him, not because it was what she was supposed to do, but what she wanted to do.

She had almost reached him when he snatched the chain from around her neck and yelled, "You chains are still mine. You belong to me!"

In a flash of fire he was gone, and the scene ended. In awhirlwind of movement and madness, suddenly she was on stage, beginning Wishing You Were Somehow Here Again. She delivered it to the best of her ability, and received thunderous applause as she hit the last, uplifting note.

After a moment of silence, Vincent's voice soothed Christine's mind as he stepped into view on top of her father's monument. "_Wandering child, so lost, so helpless, yearning for my guidance._" As he sang to her, she was filled with such a wondrous sense of happiness that, even though she was in front of an audience, she smiled widely as she stepped forward.

He saw her expression, returned the smile, and she started to sing with a joyous power. "_Wildly my mind beats against you, but the soul obeys!_ _Angel of music, I denied you, turning from true beauty. Angel of music, my protector, come to me strange Angel_!"

He lured her with his husky voice, and she gladly followed. "_I am your Angel of Music...come to me; Angel of Music._"

She inwardly cursed as Devon ran onto the stage, said his lines with what seemed to be anger rather than worry, and began to pull her away. She fought against him longer than she was supposed to, until he had to practically pick her up to get her off stage.

As the scene ended and she stepped backstage, quickly separating herself from Devon by weaving through the crowd of hustling people. He would have followed her, but Devon was needed on stage for 'We Have All Been Blind.'

She was back on stage before she knew it, and singing 'Twisted Every Way' and pretending to appreciate Devon's kind gestures. When the song ended and the lights went out, she realized what was next, and hope surged through her veins. In the next scene, Devon would be up in box five, unable to do anything, and she would be on stage with Vincent during a song where nearly anything was acceptable.

Christine stood just out of sight in backstage right, yearning for her cue to come. The chorus finished singing Don Juan, and now Piangi and other cast member were singing about the plan. She straightened her dress and adjusted her corset, wanting to look perfect when the time came. Piangi left the stage, she took a deep breath, and stepped into the lights.

She sang her first line as she strolled to nearly center stage, then sat on her knees peacefully. Then she heard the curtain swish behind her, and knew the time had come.

Vincent sang quietly to the cast member. "_Go 'way for the trap is set and waits for it's prey_." As he continued, walking toward his mark at just left of center stage, she could tell his voice wasn't entirely into the song. "_You have come here in pursuit of your deepest urge. In pursuit of that wish, which 'till now has been silent...silent..._" She looked over her shoulder as his voice grew in strength. "_I have brought you, that our passions may fuse and merge. In your mind you've already succumbed to me, dropped all defenses, completely succumbed to me. Now you are here with me, no second thoughts, you've decided..._" He swished his cape gallantly. "_...decided...Past the point of no return, no backward glances._" He started to cross the stage to position himself behind her."_The games we've played 'till now are at an end. Past all thought of "if" and "when." No use resisting. Abandon thought and let the dream descend._" He grabbed her from behind and she rolled her head back onto his shoulder. "_What raging fire shall flood the soul_?_ What rich desire unlocks it's door_?" She took his hands and ran them over her breasts and down her curves. "_What sweet seduction lies before us_?" As he stood back to look at her, she could see the confusion in his eyes. "_Past the point of no return, the final threshold. What warm, unspoken secrets will we learn beyond the point of no...return..."_

She stared him down, hoping to clear his disorientation with her singing. "_You have brought me to that moment when words run dry, to that moment when speech disappears into silence...silence..._" Her voice took on a certain edge that caused his eyebrow to arch, giving her the sign that she was getting her message across. "_I have come here hardly knowing the reason why. In my mind I've already imagined our bodies entwining, defenseless and silent._" She arched her eyebrow suggestively."_Now I'm here with you, no second thoughts, I've decided...decided..._" She made her way to the staircase and, as he followed suit, she knew she had his full attention now. "_Past the point of no return, no going back now. Our passiona play has now, at last, begun. Past all thought of right or wrong, the final question: how long shall we two wait before we're one_?" As they reached the bridge and she continued singing, Vincent now understood everything she was trying to say and clearly yearned to sing back to her. "_When will the blood begin to race, the sleeping bud burst into bloom_? _When will the flames at last consume us_!" He threw off his cape with no regard as to where it landed and started for her, desperate to fell her in his arms as their voices rose together. "_Past the point of no return, the final threshold_!" They grabbed each other, groping and feeling every curve with a ravenous hunger. "_The bridge is crossed, so stand and watch it burn_!" As they sang the last line, he ran his fingertips down her throat and body. "_We've past the point of no...return..._"

He stood behind her, holding her carefully. Without meaning to, they both looked over to Devon, who was shaking with rage, and grinned slightly.

Caressing her face gently, Vincent began to sing. "_Say you'll share with me one love, one lifetime. Lead me, save me from my solitude. Say you want me with you, here beside you-_" He turned her to face him, all his love pouring into the song. "_Anywhere you go, let me go too. Christine, that's all I ask of-_"

She ripped off his mask as the organ played the theme, but kept his eye contact. His only acknowledgment of understanding was a slight nod of his head, then he grabbed her to him, drew his sword, and cut the chandelier ropes before pulling the lever that sent the two performersplummeting through the stage floor and landing on the mats below. As mayhem ensued above them, they didn't speak as they rushed back up to get to their places in time. Down Once More passed like a dream and before they knew it, Raoul had shown up to save her in the Phantom's lair.

Devon pleaded through the gate, "_Free her_! _Do what you like, only free her_! _Show some compassion._"

"The world showed no compassion to me!" Vincent yelled back with so much ferocity that Christine actually winced.

"_Christine, Christine, let me see her._"

"Be my guest, sir." As he pulled the lever and the gate rose, Vincent advanced toward Devon, his heated gaze fixed on his prey. "..._did you think that I would harm her_? _Why would I make her pay for the sins which are yours_!"

Vincent, instead of merely picking up the rpe out of the mist and tying Devon to the gate, _punched_ Devon, grabbed the rope, shoved him against the gate, then tied his neck and wrists to it as he yelled his next lines. Vincent presented Christine's final choice to her, and the three stars sang with more avid passion than they ever had before, each with their different reasons for doing so. At last, it came time for Christine to make her choice. She stole a glance at Devon, glared at him as she had always wanted to, then turned to Vincent, her eyes softening.

Her voice was delicate as she walked toward her Phantom. "_Pitiful creature of darkness, what kind of life have you known_? _God give me courage to show you, you are not alone_!"

She threw her arms around Vincent and kissed him deeply, only pulling away for a moment because the show depended on it, then plunged onto his lips once again. The overwhelming emotion thatwashed over them was expressed through their adoring embrace. Her heart soared as they kissed, unbelievably relievedwith the fact that she had her Phantom, if not forever, then now.

When they finally separated, Vincent's sobs could be heard throughout the theater, but Christine knew they were tears of joy, and her heart craved to hold him once more. The voices of the cast could be heard in the background, and Devon dragged her off stage.

When it came time for her to appear in front of the audience one last time, she didn't even register their presence. Her eyes were on Vincent, crumpled and weeping on the floor, the music box beside him.

He looked up and into her eyes and, with more truth than the crowd could ever know, sang softly, "_Christine I love you_."

As she gave the ring back to him, she mouthed the words back. He fought back a smile to remain in character, and she left the spotlight for the last time. When she stepped backstage, she went right into Devon's arms.

"He knows everything!" Devon whispered violently, grabbing Christine by the shoulders, "I'll make you pay, you fucking bitch, you wont speak for a month!"

If people hadn't been around, she was sure he would have hit her, but the cast was readying themselves for the curtain call, so he simply let her go and took his place amongst them, seething with anger.

Caroline, as Meg,had found the only thing remaining of the Phantom, the mask, and the lights dimmed for the final time that season. The crowd cheered louder than they ever had before, and Christine couldn't help but cry. She would miss playing the lead in her beloved musical, but the absence of Vincent was what truly pained her. As the supporting cast took their bows, she tried to dry her eyes so she could smile and wave and people wouldn't dare think that she had been crying. On cue, she went out in front of the crowd and took her bow graciously, beaming with pride. She tactfully stepped aside, and Vincent made his entrance, mask and all, to whoops and hollers. He took a sweeping bow, joined his cast in the final bow, and the curtain fell.

Christine fled to her dressing room in an attempt to avoid Devon. Once inside, she barricaded the door with costume boxes and kept all her weight up against it. It wasn't long before she heard her fiancé knock calmly at the door.

"It's time to go," he called, his voice laced with violence, "We have a wedding tomorrow, and a long night ahead of us."

"I'm not going with you!" she yelled, "I'll die before I have to see you again!"

He tried to open the door, but she pushed against him. "Bitch!" he swore, then lowered his voice to keep the cast's suspicion low. "I'll be back when the cast has gone to the after party. If you don't let me in openly, I swear you'll be in the hospital before the night is over."

She heard his footsteps dissolve into the general sounds of the theater, and fell to her knees. Holing up in her dressing room had been the only option at the time. If she had stayed near Vincent, out in the open, Devon would have politely dragged her off and Vincent would have been helpless to stop him in the middle of an adoring crowd. But now that Christine was trapped in her dressing room, she realized there was no way to let him know what was happening.

All she could do now was wait. It would all be over soon enough...


	8. Chapter 8

**Side Note: **Yes, there is one last chapter after this one.

**Chapter Eight:**

With the promise of an all night, blow out party, it didn't take the cast long to get out of the building. Christine sat against the barricaded door, growing more tense as the minutes ticked by. She hadn't heard a voice or a footstep outside her door in a while, which could only mean that it was a matter of time before Devon came for her.

Speak of the devil.

"Christine," Devon said through the door, his tone cold, "no one is in the building, you can scream all you want and no one will know. Now…open the door."

She wiped the fresh tears from her eyes. "Leave me alone!" she yelled, readying herself to hold the door closed.

"I'm giving you one last chance," he warned, "open the door."

She spoke with more bravery than she felt. "No!"

A moment of silence. Then, Devon threw every ounce of his strength at the door and it blew open, toppling the barricade over and pushing Christine to the floor. He wasted no time in grabbing Christine, hauling her to her feet, and dragging her out of the room. As he pulled her through the backstage, she noticed he hadn't changed out of his costume, the detail soon left her mind as he jerked her around, finding his way to the stage. She tried to yank her wrist out of his visceral grip and found a ray of hope as she saw she was almost free. He noticed he was losing grip, turned, and in one fluid motion backhanded her across the face with his free hand. Her face exploded with a razor pain and her knees went weak, threatening to give out on her completely.

They started to cross the stage in order to get to the other side, with him half carrying her. When they had almost reached the other side, she regained enough of her senses to grab his neck with her loose hand and rake her fingernails deep across his flesh. He swore and threw her down, touching his wound and amazed when he saw blood on his fingertips. She tried to scramble away, only to have him nail the tip of his boot into her ribs, sending her back down to the ground.

He bent down to grab her hair, and the tip of a sword came out of the darkness, resting just below Devon's chin. He froze for a second, then slowly backed away. The sword followed him, and the weapon's owner emerged from the shadows.

Vincent, in full Phantom costume, stepped into the dim light. Wheezing and sputtering on the floor, Christine rolled over onto her back and tried to sit up, moving herself behind the director.

The two men stared each other down, silently daring the other to make a move. Christine slowly pulled herself into a weak stance, her breathing gradually becoming normal again.

Vincent broke the silence, his tone dead cold. "You don't deserve what I'm about to offer you."

"You can't touch me," Devon replied, grinning righteously, "If you lay a hand on me I'll have you thrown out of this city, and not without a few bruises either."

"Listen," Vincent insisted, applying more pressure to the blade, "you have two minutes to get out of this theater before I slash your throat open."

Devon scoffed, "You'd never touch me, you're too hung up on love to hurt anyone."

"Leave her out of this."

"Isn't she why we're all here?"

Christine rested her hand on the director's shoulder. "Vincent.."

His slight glance away was enough time for Devon to attack, pushing the blade away and tackling him to the ground, knocking Christine off balance. The sword clattered to the floor as the two men struggled, throwing punches whenever they could. Christine watched in horror as they fought, then picked up the sword; she wasn't going to risk Devon getting control of the weapon.

Vincent left a small window of opportunity open for his enemy, who hit him so hard his mask flew off, landing a few feet away from Christine. Now dazed, Vincent tried to back off so he could get a moment to recuperate. Devon pounced on the weakened man and pinned him to the floor, grabbing his hair and punching him again to make sure he'd stay down. In a moment of triumph, Devon withdrew something from his pocket and held it up over his head.

"You want to be the hero!" Devon yelled, seizing Vincent by the collar and shaking him, "You want to be your precious Phantom! Your wish is granted!"

Devon flipped open the bottle he had taken out and poured the contents onto the right side of Vincent's face. The director writhed and shouted in pain as he struggled to get away. Christine, paralyzed until now, rushed at Devon and blindly swung the sword. Blood spurted from the man's neck and he fell backward, eyes wide with shock. She pushed Devon off Vincent and knelt by her phantom's side, sputtering and twitching, fear dominated his eyes as the acid ate through his skin. In a flash Christine was up and running to her dressing room. Once there, she snatched her cell phone and called for an ambulance, yelling out the address then hanging up only when the nurse swore to her that help was on the way.

She sprinted back to Vincent's side and sat with him, cradling his head in her lap, not caring if any drops of acid ate through her costume. He grasped her hand and looked into her eyes, trying to hide his pain to appear brave, but she could see through to his raw alarm.

"C-Christ-tine..." he whispered, tears in his eyes, "I-I..."

"No," she gently interrupted, leaning over so she could be close to his face and gaze into his eyes, "don't speak. Everything will be fine."

"I-I don't...k-know...if I-I can..."

"Shhhh..."

She gently stroked his hair for a moment, then an idea came to her, a way she could comfort him until help arrived.

She leaned over by his good ear and began to sing softly. "_Say you'll share with me one love, one lifetime. Say the word and I will follow you. Share each day with me, each night, each morning. Say you love me._"

With surprising clarity he sang, "_You know I do..._"

She couldn't help but smile. "_Love me...that's all I ask of you..._"

Christine took a moment to look over at Devon, who had been still for a long time. The weight of what she had done wouldn't settle in for a while, and she didn't mind. Turning her attention back to Vincent, she began rocking him gently, yearning to somehow ease his pain.

"I-I want..." he began, his weak voice tugging at her heart, "...I need...t-to keep...talking..."

Tears sprang to her eyes as she nodded her head in a quiet agreement. More love was expressed in those minutes before the ambulance arrived than in any other time in each of their lives. After all that had happened, they were finally together, and that's all either one cared about.


	9. Chapter 9

**Side Note:** Two final chapters in one day (the other being for my Labyrinth fic). Woo! They both have funerals, too. Weird. Anyway, I had a blast writing this, and I thank you all for putting up with my spurts of additions followed by droughts. This is _really _short, I know, but there's nowhere else for the story to go without becoming a sequel. I have a great idea for one, too, so let me know in your reviews if you want one.

**Chapter Nine:**

Countless people were huddled together around Devon Travis' grave, weeping as if they had just lost a war hero. Vincent and Christine stood away from the group, watching the ceremony. His strong arms held her gently from behind, providing her with all the comfort she needed. They both had felt some strange need to attend Devon's funeral, though neither of them knew why. The notion of paying respect to the man sent shivers of sickness through Christine, but she did feel like her presence was necessary, not out of sadness, but pity. Vincent felt along the same lines, and they both agreed that it would feel awkward standing too close, so they opted for a distant spot.

The funeral ended, Devon was lowered into the ground, and the crowd started to disperse. A sudden flutter of worry stirred in Christine's chest.

"Do you think anyone will find out I killed him?" she asked, slightly turning her head towards him.

Vincent let out a small sigh. "The police promised you anonymity and the papers only talked about a prop malfunction. I don't think anyone will ever know."

She felt it again, the need to ask the one question that had been nagging at her mind since he came home from the hospital. Every time she had tried to ask him, her voice had failed her, too afraid to find out the answer. Now she had no choice, shecouldn't put it off anylonger without hurting them both in the long run. Turning around in his arms, she looked up into his half masked face, tears welling up in her eyes.

"Vincent," she began, struggling to get the words out, "do you..."

"Yes?" he said, his tone becoming one of concern.

She swallowed hard. "Was it worth it?"

He arched his left eyebrow. "What do you mean?" She smiled faintly and touched his mask, the urge to cry becoming unbearable, and his expression shifted to reflect his adoration. "Don't ever worry about that, Christine. Even if I lose everything, this way I'll always be your Phantom."


End file.
